metallic sheen
by RoseQuartz1
Summary: The big city isn't all it's cracked up to be. [No Powers; Slice of Life]


Platinum sunlight streamed through the blinds hanging down from the top of the sliding door. Bubbles cracked her neck on the soft pillows under her, but she could barely move for the heavier body above her. Swallowing thickly and ignoring the feeling of her chest sliding against his, she eased her way out from under him as gently as possible.

She had only drunk a little last night, really. It had just been for fun, she reassured herself as her wrists stalled in the folds of his clearly expensive sheets. She'd just turned twenty one after all. It made sense to just see what the hullabaloo about drinking was. She didn't even have a headache—

Bubbles froze at his sudden movement. The hand that she'd been just about to move slid along her arm, shoulders, down her crinkled tank top, waist, and…

Mr. Nameless rolled over. She bit her lip, sitting up as she stared at his naked fair skinned back. He looked sort of curled up, really, sort of like an infant, not at all flirtatious as he'd been last night-

Bubbles brought her knees to her chest and played with the hem of her socks. She felt so silly, now, coming up here with him, and nothing had even happened. She was still in her kitten-print socks for crying out loud.

She scooted off the bed and glanced around for her jeans.

The room was really very nice, shiny modernist walls and the like. The sliding closet doors doubled as mirrors that Bubbles pointedly steered herself away from. (She didn't want to see herself tromp around in Hello! Kitty panties.) A wide flat screen TV sat above a dresser on the wall opposite the bed. The carpet was a dull beige and the walls were white in contrast to the baby blue curtains.

Either this was actually Mr. Nameless' s room or a real swanky hotel. But she couldn't see any complimentary coupons or shampoo for miles. In her experience (which was none), guys rarely took one-night-stands up to their own personal apartments, which is to say never. So she'd assume the latter had happened.

As her friend Buttercup would say, "Get a rich boyfriend, and you'll be set for life." Bubbles rarely followed her advice, and BC didn't practice what she preached anyway. It didn't matter though since Blossom inevitably batted Buttercup upside the head and tutted about the strength and virtue of female entrepreneurs; The brainiac didn't understand jokes. At least, Bubbles thought it was a joke.

In the morning sunbeams she easily spotted her pants crumpled on the carpet. She sat on the edge of the bed and toed them. Glancing back at the sleeping man behind her, she stood up and was surprised to hear no squeaking from the mattress.

Dressers always made for good handholds, so Bubbles held on to it as she tugged on her pants, preparing to grab her keys and purse laying by the door when-

There was a soft yawn from the young man on the bed. Bubbles spun around, barely finished with buttoning as the man groaned and lazily sat up.

He reclined on one arm, lying back as he blinked blurrily at her and rubbed his eyes.

Bubbles gulped and her eyes widened anxiously, flitting from his sleepy face to the not-so-grand exit. His eyes did something similar, like he wanted to run away and never be seen again-

No, wait, that was her. Silly power of suggestion.

Mr. Nameless wasn't extremely striking as men go, but he did have high cheekbones and a long forlorn face and a straight nose to boot. His eyes were grayish blue and sparkly in the sunlight. His hair was floppy in a stylish cut and blonde, a deep metallic blonde. The utter opposite of her straw colored locks. It took Bubbles all of five seconds to realize he was staring at her.

Her face burned. Oh phooey, she was half in love with him already.

His eyebrows raised as he crossed his tangled legs in the cold white fabric. He cocked his head at her, twisted his thin-lipped mouth, and slowly gestured at her and then himself. Shocked, her face burned brighter as her face sunk into her collar. She quickly shook her head no and averted her eyes.

He shrugged and scooted over to the edge of the bed. Bubbles squeaked and shrunk away. He picked his phone out a pocket of his crumpled jeans at her feet and unlocked it with a _ding!_

Bubbles quickly tossed on her shirt and checked that her studs were still there. Reaching for the door handle, she prepared to make her getaway when-

"So, do I get your number or…?"

She looked back at him, with what must have been the stupidest muckle-mouthed expression out there, gripping the knob for dear life. All the while, he just sat on the bed, a crisp sheet covering half of his chest, oh dear. He really look a little silly; An uncomfortable, sleepy yet alert look graced his handsome face as he sat there in his grey briefs and blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Awkwardly he held out his phone, it's glimmering screen open to the Contacts app and a new contact sheet waiting and willing for the input of Bubbles' information.

A little grin crept its way onto her face, and she started giggling awkwardly for some unfathomable reason. He did the same and scratched the back of his head shyly. His bedhead became even worse, but it was a good kind of worse, a cute kind of worse. The kind of behead a romantic like Bubbles would wake up to every morning, if given the chance.

Like lightning, she whipped out a business card from her black bead purse and pressed it into the palm of his hand. Then she skedaddled out the door without seeing his surprise.


End file.
